Sunday, June 16, 2013

So...(Ch 30 draft - President makes his pitch)

Geddes listened
without interrupting while Ruth recounted her conversation with the
president. He walked alongside her in silence awhile after she'd
finished. A sullen bruise had appeared above the treeline in the
west, marring the sunny sky with its promise of an inhospitable day's
end. Ruth seemed impervious to the sporadic wind gusts, but Geddes
zipped up his Iowa Hawkeyes jacket and hunched his shoulders against
the chill. No one was near them at the moment, yet Geddes kept his
voice cautious when he spoke.

“When
are you supposed to get back to him?”

“Tonight.”

“What
did you tell him?”

“That
I'd get back to him. I tried to keep the alarm out of my voice.”

“It's
in your voice now, Ruth.”

“That
may be because I'm a little afraid of what I'm thinking...”

“You...”

“...that
we should do it.”

Geddes stopped
walking. He clutched Ruth's elbow and she pivoted to face him. He
said nothing, just looked at her, intently.

“You
don't, I gather,” she said, eyebrows raised.

“Way
too risky. For us, him, for the country, for chrissakes. Best case,
the world watches our president come unglued and babble like a toddler.
Worst case? Shit, Ruth, I don't even wanna think of a worst case.
What if his big secret is he had sex with his mother or he murdered
somebody? Jesus, there's no telling what might come out.”

“Al,
he's an object of contempt now. How could it get any worse? He told
me White House employees he's never seen before bump into him in the
hallways – I mean physically bump into him – and scowl at him as
if it was his fault. No apology. Nothing. How can a president fall
any lower than that?”

“He'll
be incapacitated. The world will watch him regress to infancy,
babbling and sucking his thumb. He'll be declared incompetent. Do we
really want Quentin Kudlow running things even for a day, not to say
more likely two or three weeks? And couldn't we be charged with
attempted assassination? What if he goes insane? Or dies?”

“Why
not? What better reassurance we're not pulling something? What better
gesture of bipartisanship?” She laughed. Geddes shook his head.

Ruth had called the
president that night, as promised, but only to delay at least another
day, claiming, as arranged, that she was “awaiting word from
Duncan” the party chairman. The code was intended to sound
political, but Ruth told Geddes it made her feel as if she were
setting up a drug deal.

“What
do you mean as
if,”
he said, frowning, “That's exactly what you're doing.”

The real reason for
the delay was Randy Newgate 's concern that a key hacker in his
anonymous network had gone silent. Geddes had checked with Newgate to
alert the network as a backup in case something happened to the live
coverage of Morowitz's experience.

“We were on a
secure line, of course, multiple-clouds, voices masked, the whole
nine yards and he, or she, started talking faster than usual, said
'the Qbies' might have a fix, and then the connection broke off. I
have no idea where this was, what country, continent. No idea what
happened.”

“Qbies?”

“That's what we
call the security goons, after the NSA's Q Teams. Could be WACKO.”

“Probly one and
the same.”

“Tell me.”

“Any indication
you're in danger?”

“Huh?”

“Do you have any
indication they might be coming after you?”

“Not yet. I'll try
a couple of dead-drop numbers in a few minutes. A hit's supposed to
robo-transmit a canned code. But if they're breaking our links...”

“That's alright,
Liz. You don't have to say anything. Just listen. I want you there
with us. Me and Al. I'm taking it, too. I...”

“Ruth, wait a
minute – you're taking it, too? Vulcana?

“Yes, I intend
to.”

“This is insane!
The two of you freaking out on me, on television, live to the world?
No way. This is insane!”

“Maybe so, Liz,
but what the hell. Geoff doesn't have much to lose, and I'm no longer
even a blip on the radar.”

“It's the country
I'm worried about. Kudlow's a moron,” she said, referring to Vice
President Quentin Kudlow. “He could do a lot of damage before
Morowitz is back on his feet.”

“Kudlow's too
chickenshit to do anything, and WACKO will leave him be because they
don't want him to shit his pants on TV or have a stroke. Satin Edie's
next in line, and she could care less what WACKO wants.”

“Wonder why they
haven't tried to take her out yet?”

“Oh, they've made
some half-assed attempts. I think actually they're afraid of her.”

“Good for her.”

“Good for us.”

“So tell me what
to do, Ruth.”

“Get the stuff.
Warren'll send the chopper down, and bring you to American
Enterprises. That's where Geoff will pick us up. He wants to keep
this as low profile as possible. Until we're there, of course.”